


The Mysterious Affair of the Begonia Murder

by YogurtTime



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band)
Genre: Crossdressing, Detective Kame, Gen, M/M, Magical Accidents, Murder Mystery, Nakamaru's Hard Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-08
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YogurtTime/pseuds/YogurtTime
Summary: Nakamaru’s Cartier wristwatch search party goes awry. All of KAT-TUN, now locked in a storage room, agrees to play a suspicious-looking game with magical and embarrassing results.





	1. Shall We Play A Game?

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for 2012's run of fic_the_faith.

 

**_”Won't you come into the garden? I would like my [begonias] to see you”  
-Richard Sheridan_.**

 

 

The jimusho has four below-ground, basement storage rooms. The entire floor is more like ‘the attic’ of the jimusho building in that there’s nothing in them besides some old records, unlabelled costume boxes, unrecycled fanmail, and paraphernalia of unidentifiable origin. It goes without saying that security there wouldn’t be as tight.

That is, aside from the electronic locks set to go on for the night at nine p.m. on the dot.

Having been in a group like KAT-TUN for as long as he has, Junno has learnt not to express hindsight as he sees it. Statements like ‘ _we should’ve asked before we came down here_ ’ wouldn’t fall on appreciative ears. And if they’re about to be locked in here for the night then Junno doesn’t want to sustain any injuries this early on, so he just doesn’t say it.

He _thinks_ it though and spends a quality minute trying not to grin because he’s worried that they can sense that too.

They are down here because for weeks now Nakamaru had been reporting a missing wristwatch. (Cartier, you know!) He’d drawn pictures of it, brandished mobile phone photos, (Ueda has since remarked that he wouldn’t be surprised if Nakamaru’s next solo contains an ambiguous reference to it, which might incite fans to speculate on whether Nakamaru had been dumped by some wayward person known for their punctuality) and _now_ this search party. All based on a hunch that he’d accidentally packed it off to storage weeks ago with last year’s costumes.

Junno’s not too sure when the wristwatch became a collective concern, but he finds the fact that they’re doing this brand new ‘teamwork’ thing very funny. He wonders how much time will pass before he can rope them all into cleaning his garage.

There is a window, but it’s mainly for ventilation, and height-wise, only Junno can see out of it. It’s dark outside, sky black with the missing moonlight and with clouds that swirl and shape harsh foreboding. It’s also quite late (getting to ten in the evening) and the weather reports did say there’d be lightning with chances of heavy rain.

“If we broke down the door…” Ueda begins doubtfully.

“They’ll charge us for damages,” Kame says without missing a beat. “We aren’t even supposed to be down here.”

Nakamaru sighs and tries the handle once more like it’d help, lanky frame sagging against the metal door. Kame sits on an overturned crate, head on his fist, thinking as Ueda looks like he’s getting skittish, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Junno sizes them up.

None of them are small enough to push out the window…

Junno, still scanning the room, locks eyes with Koki already looking at him. His hair is straight and fluffy tonight, got up in low trousers draped on those curvy hips. He’s standing, legs apart, over by a tall stack of boxes; has his arms folded, round eyes clear but pensive. “What?” he says, pouty lips twisting in disquiet.

Junno feels a little warm in the central area of his chest. Sometimes he just wants to gather him up, everything about him, and put him in his own special Koki room. Junno figures Koki just has this weird affect on people in general. “You got plans tonight?” he asks.

Koki’s eyebrows twitch and he smiles laughingly. “Funny.”

Junno was very serious. He doesn’t mind all this, though. He has next-to-nothing to do at home, really, and just looking around the fluorescent-lit, organized storage room fills him with an inexplicable sense of contentment. That is not to say that Nakamaru pacing in small circles nervously fills him with any extra comfort.

“So what, since no one can know we were down here without permission we can’t call for help?” Nakamaru asks wearily, hand still tugging half-heartedly on the handle.

Kame stares at the opposite wall fretfully, clasping his hands together loosely, elbows on his knees. “We can’t risk it, not now,” he says, deeply serious and intense.

“So what do we do?” Koki asks.

“Well, they usually keep the doors unlocked during daylight hours,” Kame begins, seemingly unsure how to word his reply. “We will have to…wait.”

Junno looks out the window quivering from high winds. Spring is coming, but there’s a storm even bigger on the way.

Nakamaru makes a quick, helpless gesture, eyebrows crushed together. “I’m sorry, you guys.”

Ueda looks at the door decisively and Junno probably wouldn’t begrudge him knocking it down. It’d also be cool to watch. Junno waits politely, but moments pass and the door remains intact while Ueda inhales through his nose loudly, pursing his lips. He then walks over to the boxes near Kame and flips one over to sit.

Junno shrugs.

“This sucks, Nakamaru,” Koki informs him, frowning deeply.

Junno can hear the rain begin outside the window. The atmosphere goes a little edgy and Junno immediately doesn’t like it. “We’ll all be on time for work tomorrow morning,” he says quickly. Bright side idealism, yeah! He receives four identical filthy looks.

Well…

Koki sighs and turns on the boxes, reaching up for the top. “We can make a bed of the costumes that are the least dusty--“There’s a silent moment as they all watch him try to reach for the topmost box. Koki groans a little, stretching up on tiptoes with one significant effort so his jacket rides up. Junno gazes and briefly reconsiders the things he finds fascinating.

Koki twists around and glares. “Taguchi, get over here and help me.”

Junno obliges quickly, stepping over to pull the cardboard boxes down to floor level. That’s when he spots it.

Gilded characters in raised font peek out of the cardboard box flaps and as Junno sets it down, he stares. It’s a case, leather-bound like a book, very Never Ending Story-esque; just this huge tome that Junno needs both hands to grasp as he pulls it out. He glances around at the others but Nakamaru, Ueda and Kame have settled in a makeshift circle of upturned boxes, watching Koki putter about with costumes. Junno uses his sleeve to sweep the dust aside before pulling open the old cover.

Junno’s a bit disappointed to see that inside is just hollowed out wood with a pile of tiny worn, small manila envelopes and one thick pamphlet. He picks up the pamphlet first. It’s odd; he could swear when he’d been looking down at it in the case, the characters on the page seemed to be unreadable in very curvy English typeface. As he picks it up, though, the words begin to blur out like a water stain. Junno squints and it’s like magic, the words become clear in Japanese.

**There has been a murder on Camp Street!**

It states in bold, urgent letters.

**One amongst your circle of friends is the perpetrator and the rest must find them guilty before it is too late!**

Junno isn’t sure if it’s the urgency of this pronouncement or the strange tingling warmth that emanates from the pages in his hand, but he is suddenly and inexplicably armed with an enticing idea.

“Hey, you guys,” Junno says, almost brimming with excitement. He turns, case still clutched in hand. “Shall we…play a game?”

The storm has since arrived and lightning arces through the sky when the lights flicker. A dark crack of thunder rumbles and Kame, Nakamaru, Ueda, and Koki all look at Junno with these nearly identical looks of terror.

Junno doesn’t understand his band mates most of the time.

 

 

It takes some convincing (a lot having to do with the lack of anything better to do) what with most of Junno’s suggestions inciting default skepticism, but soon they’re huddled in a strange nest of costumes and cotton swabs from old Shounen Club Christmas sets stuffed in trouser legs as pillows.

“Explain the instructions, Taguchi. What are you doing?” Nakamaru complains, pulling a gingham thing over his shoulders irritably.

Junno is _reading_ the instructions and trying quite valiantly to concentrate. “Wait, wait,” he says. “The Game Master has to understand the rules fully before we can begin.”

“Game Master?” Kame echoes.

“Master of the game,” Junno supplies impatiently. Why don’t they get it? “Like in an RPG. I possess the rules and tell you what to do.”

“This is going to be our most terrible experience this year, I know it,” Ueda says in an eerily warm tone.

“Hush,” Junno says, pawing at the air in their direction, unmindful of them all leaning away. “So the rules state that we’re each to be assigned a character on Camp Street, New Orleans of the year 1895 where a murder occurred and one of the characters is the murderer--how exciting!--and we gotta find out who did it by following the storyline and using intense investigation!” Junno picks up the small manila envelopes. “Characters are in here. I am going to shuffle them and then hand them out at random…” He looks around at each of them to make sure they understand.

Kame, sleeves shaken over his hands gives an impatient gesture for him to go on ahead, Nakamaru is doing that thing with his eyes where he’s judging and looking sleepy all at once and Ueda appears to have mentally left the room. Junno nods knowingly, smiling and beginning to shuffle the envelopes before he looks over at Koki to his right.

Koki is a ball of comfortable-looking decorated poly-blend jackets. He looks up at Junno for a brief studying second, saying nothing. “Should be fun,” he says finally, glancing away and pulling the jackets closer around himself.

Junno quite likes that he said that. He nods and starts to distribute the envelopes and there’s a short pause as they open them.

“Augh!” Koki says.

“Hm,” says Kame and he smiles quietly. “I’m…an esteemed detective from out of town.”

“Augh!” Koki cries even louder, clutching his card with a pointed grimace. “What is this shit?”

“I’m the highly respected Irish Colonel’s—I can’t read this name—but I’m this man’s son,” Nakamaru mutters, looking aggrieved. “An incorrigible skirt-chaser… _what_?”

“Oh _man_ ~” Koki moans.

Ueda smirks. “I’m a—a Creole aristocrat with a gambling problem. Heh.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Koki says with deep feeling.

Junno stares down at his card, caught in a fresh moment of delight. “I’m from France. A French Duke and I—“

“Let me pick another one!” Koki interrupts, grabbing at the rest of the envelopes in Junno’s other hand.

Junno holds them away at arm’s reach. “No, no. It has been decided. No switching!”

Koki looks outraged. “Taguchi, give me the other envelopes!”

Junno frowns and he takes them all and sits on them. “I’m the _Game_ Master, Koki. Now we all need to get into character so we can start playing!”

“Taguchi!” Koki barks.

Junno just shakes his head, too excited to keep frowning. “All right~! What’ve you got, Koki?”

The others look at Koki expectantly and his ears are bright red. He picks up his card, reading. “A…a mischievous southern belle debutante—are you _kidding_ me?”

Kame and Ueda both snicker. Nakamaru looks like he’s trying not to for Koki’s sake.

Junno looks doubtful. “Well, I guess you could pick one more time…” He pulls out the extra three envelopes and shuffles them again, holding them out to Koki. Koki eyes them guardedly, his hand hovering over Junno’s. Finally he pulls the one on the right, tearing it open quickly. He takes one look at it and blanches.

“What, what?” Kame prods.

Koki throws the card to the floor. “A gambling den whore who’s sweet on the Colonel’s son.”

“That’s…me,” Nakamaru murmurs, looking at Koki with some wide-eyed consideration. Ueda doubles up, choking with laughter and Kame looks between both Koki and Nakamaru with a huge grin on his face.

“So there are couples in this?” Kame asks laughingly.

Ueda looks more than amused, poking at Kame. “I wonder who you’re with.”

Kame’s expression goes stern and serious. “No, Ueda, I’m a detective. I’m married to my _work_.”

Ueda simply stares, eyes squinted. He glances at Nakamaru who shrugs, looking equally as nonplussed.

Junno isn’t smiling anymore. “What’s in the other envelopes?” he says quietly, pulling one out. **Scary and belligerent Vodoo Crone** it says at the top. Junno laughs a little, but stops at Koki’s glare and hands him the card.

Koki looks miserable. “And the other one?”

Junno looks at it warily. “A sideshow geek who bites the heads off chickens.”

Ueda cackles, falling back on his box. “What kind of game _is_ this?”

Koki brings his hand to his forehead, rubbing over it fretfully. “I’ll just go with my first card, please,” he mutters, reaching for the debutante card.

Junno beams. “Excellent! So now we get into character and I begin the narrative.”

“What do you mean get into character?” Koki says, eyeing his card shiftily.

Junno gets to his feet and bows very low, one foot forward, making a series of extravagant arm sweeps while the rest of them gaze in unsettled puzzlement. “See? I’m French.”

“What the hell?” Ueda exclaims. Nakamaru is so incredulous he looks angry and Kame, well, he’s watching the others with an inscrutable expression, eyes narrowed and suspicious. In character. Good for him.

“How does a skirt-chaser even behave?” Nakamaru huffs, staring down at his card.

“I guess you should be leering at Koki for the rest of the game,” Ueda supplies and his expression is remarkably neutral.

Junno nods energetically. Ueda would know.

Nakamaru bites his lip. He looks at each of them interchangeably and then takes a deep breath. He fixes a look on Koki and Ueda leans around to get vantage. Kame squints. Nakamaru’s dark eyes narrow as his eyebrows lower and after a slow, intent moment, his full mouth curls up in a deliberately wicked smile.

“Gosh,” Ueda murmurs just as Junno remembers to exhale.

“Damn, Nakamaru,” Kame says.

“Can we just start with the game please?!” Koki snaps suddenly, cheeks flushed, fanning himself at the collar. Also in character. Great!

“Right, right, OK,” Junno says, fumbling for the pamphlet. He flips through, looking for the introduction page. In his silence, the rain begins to intensify, louder patters against the pipes outdoors.

“So listen closely because this is the setting.” Junno says very seriously. “It’s a sunny day on Camp Street, the lawns are green and the birds are singing…”

Perhaps it’s the lightning flash or the roar in his ears that follows. Junno isn’t sure why but he glances at Koki, who’s already looking at him, listening for instruction. It’s in that second that Junno feels the weird pull and the lightning flashes again before there’s a thunderclap and Koki looks suddenly worried, eyes widening just in the moment that the lights go too bright.

There’s an even larger flash and Junno utters a faint cry when he opens his eyes to see that they’re all bathed in darkness. Power out. What awful luck.

No one speaks and Junno sighs, “You guys?”

No answer.

At first he’s convinced that this is an elaborate prank and he’s almost impressed at how they managed to arrange this; he even begins to feel a little flattered but when he moves to touch the floor beside him, there’s nothing. Just empty air and Junno’s immediately startled with the fact that he can feel a breeze.

 

 

It hits like vertigo. One moment he’s upright and the next he’s slammed on his back with an impact that almost injures. The breeze still floats over his face and hands, but now the air he inhales is warm and humid. Junno winces before opening his eyes. The sky is blue, bare but for the sparse bits of cloud scattered over it, moving slow and quiet. Junno flattens his hands underneath him and feels grass, thick and long.

In a sudden panic, he sits up and looks around. He’s sitting beside a flowerbed behind what looks like a huge house. Bright red and deep purple begonias droop over his legs, petals falling where his boot heels have interfered with them.

Junno looks down at himself and he’s in a flagrant pale blue sack coat with coattails. Instead of a tie, there’s white silk cravat at his collar tied snugly around his neck and the collar itself is turned upward. Fancy. Junno stretches out his legs and looks down at the very nice-looking, pointy white boots done up with shining brass buttons.

“Oh…” he says softly, getting to his feet, dusting away stray grass.

The house to his right is one of those large white Greek Revival Style ones with dark blue shutters and at least six pillars coming down from nearly every overhang. Vinery has grown along its sides and dances in the breeze. The yard itself seems to stretch on and on with what appears to be a full orchard not far off. Junno registers all this while taking deep, uneasy breaths.

He’s completely alone here.

He might’ve walked around to the front of the house, but just then he feels a harsh, singeing burn right in his trouser pocket. Junno starts and reaches in and his fingers make contact with the edge of a card. His persona card! Pulling it out, Junno stares in alarm as the ink previously stating “French Duke recently immigrated to the Americas, nearly bankrupt,” fades away.

There are birds twittering away above him and Junno looks down at the card helplessly. “What do I do?” he asks mournfully. He’s alarmed when the ink begins to seep back in and Junno’s stares.

 

  
**_The time is four o’ clock in the afternoon. Pick a heavy, red begonia bouquet for your amante chérie_ **

 

“My ‘amante chérie’?” Junno says the foreign words aloud, finding it all both puzzling and funny. He looks down at the flowers, utterly clueless.

Right. It’s a game. He has to play the game. Why else would he be given instructions so specific? Junno crouches down to the stems of the biggest, reddest begonias. He takes one look at the soil and looks around for a bit and notices the white kid gloves tucked into his breast pocket. He slips them on, reaching out to snap the begonias off their stems quickly.

He’s a bit put-out; he had been pretty certain he was the Game Master, but from the way this looks, he’s definitely just a regular player. Fun as it already is, he’s worried about the others. They might not know that it’s a game. What if they don’t adhere to the game rules? What happens then?

Junno gets up once he has a sizeable bunch of begonias squeezed together. He pulls out his card. “What now?”

 

  
**_The time is five minutes after four o’ clock in the afternoon. Your amante chérie is waiting for you on the balcony of her bedroom around the back of the house._ **

 

Junno has no idea what an ‘amante chérie‘ is, but it sounds pretty. He adjusts his coat and strides around the back of the house. He wonders vaguely why the card keeps telling him the time, but he’s sure it’s significant to the gameplay.

He sees him the very moment he looks up at the balcony. Well, he wouldn’t have known it was him if it hadn’t been for the visibly impatient look on his features and the peculiar curve of his pouty mouth. It’s still unmistakably Koki, though, but with wavy, long black hair and a dress. He stands leaning over the balustrade, looking very annoyed.

“Koki?” he calls and round heavily-lashed eyes zero down at him in surprise.

“Taguchi, why are _you_ here?” He leans over the balustrade further. “I’m waiting for my—“ he cuts off suddenly.

“Waiting for your what? Did you read your card?” Junno prompts.

Koki waves a hand. “Yeah, yeah I did. Get up here, would you. We need to work this shit out.”

Koki’s talking funny. Like maybe an accent or something. It’s like everything he says is a bit sing-song. Junno doesn’t give it a second thought. There’s a trellis to the left of the balcony and he moves for it. Koki peers over, watching him, chin on his arms as Junno pulls himself up, still clutching the begonias in one hand. He’s thinking of the fact that Koki is apparently his amante chérie and he still isn’t sure what that is. Still, he’s relieved to see Koki looking relatively safe.

He swings his legs over the edge of the stone balustrade and hops down. Koki’s watching him, looking pensive and Junno gets a proper look at him.

It’s definitely a wedding cake of a dress with huge puffy sleeves and a low-waisted corset that makes his semi-broad chest look a bit voluptuous for lack of a better word. Something in the curve and dip of his collarbones and the press of the corset inward, all clinging in a way that makes Junno a wee bit uncomfortable. Koki’s shiny hair is a whole other thing. They almost look artificial, the shininess of the curls…

“Are you…” Junno begins, uncertainly, unsure how to put it politely. “Koki, are you very much a girl?”

Koki black-rimmed eyes widen. “What are you talking about?”

Junno doesn’t know why he’s embarrassed. It’s a justified question. “I mean, like, are you female under all those frills?”

His arm explodes with pain before he realises Koki’s hit him. “ _Never_ ask anyone what’s under their skirts, all right?” he says snappishly, finger raised. “And are those for me?”

“Sorry,” Junno says quickly, rubbing his arm. He looks to where Koki’s pointing and realizes he’s still holding the begonias. “Ah yeah, my card said to give these to you.”

Koki takes them, blinking oddly long lashes at him sullenly. “Thanks,” he says, clutching them in small, pretty hands. This is weird. Junno feels confused in a grand series of ways. He takes out his card to distract himself from much more visceral reactions to Koki’s figure in an evening gown.

“What now?” he asks it.

 

  
**_The time is half an hour after four o’ clock. You’ve come here to romance your amante chérie._ **

 

“What does it say?” Koki asks, pushing curls out of his face and stepping forward. Junno quickly tucks the card in his breast pocket, the back of his ears burning.

“What does _yours_ say?” he counters, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels.

Koki shrugs and pulls the card from under his belt. “Well?” he says to it. Junno waits as Koki glares down at his card. After a silent moment, he tucks it away again. “This is ridiculous; we should be trying to find the others now!”

Junno grimaces. “But we have to finish the game,” he says doubtfully.

Koki hikes up his skirts and walks to the French windows. “We can’t just stand around here playing this game or whatever. We’re in a strange world, you look like a tool and I’m in a _dress_.”

Junno looks down at himself. He thinks he looks really fancy. “Well, still. If we finish the game, then chances are we’ll go back to where we were.”

Koki sighs and steps indoors and Junno follows, noting that the room is filled with archaic looking furniture and a huge four poster canopy bed with mosquito netting draped along its posts.

He isn’t sure why he’s arguing the object of the game so pointedly considering the awkward situation of having to romance his best friend. Not that Junno wouldn’t know how to romance and definitely not that he wouldn’t exactly be averse to romancing Koki…

He sighs too and pulls out his card.

 

  
**_The time is a quarter to five o’ clock. Romance her!_ **

 

It could be just his imagination, but the card is beginning to sound rather testy. Junno scratches his head. How on earth is he supposed to break the ice for something like that? Koki drops the bouquet in a squat little vase on a vanity table and stalks toward the bedroom doors and pulls the knob. There’s a quick moment of pause wherein the door doesn’t open and then Koki tries again, pulling and pulling.

“Oh my god,” he breathes in horror. “We’re locked in.”

Junno winces. He knows it’s the game. It’s just how these things work. If he were to simply tell Koki how pretty he looks, would that count? No, that’s as good as a pick-up line. The card is getting warmer against his chest and Junno knows it’s probably yelling at him now.

“This is so messed up,” Koki says quietly. He takes a seat sideways in a chair positioned in front of a vanity table; he drapes his arms over the back of it and looks off worriedly.

.”Yeah,” Junno agrees with deep feeling.

He wonders what Koki’s card says. More importantly, though he’s ashamed of it, he’s quite curious about what’s under Koki’s skirts. “Are we alone in the house?” he asks instead.

“Hell if I know,” Koki mutters. “Isn’t this supposed to be a murder mystery? What am I doing locked in here with you?”

Junno smiles a little bitterly. Koki says things like that, and usually it’s like another type of funny, but right now Junno feels a little sting. It’s like Koki catches something in the look on his face and he rearranges his expression.

“Look, you know what I mean, man,” he amends, and then he does an odd thing and pulls his skirts up to reveal a pair of garters on the tops of his stockings. Tucked under the garter on his slim right leg is a tin box with clear engraved letters spelling the word ‘cigarettes’. Koki catches Junno looking and shrugs. “They were there when I got here.”

“Oh,” Junno replies. He figures that’s what the box meant when it mentioned Koki’s character was ‘mischievous’.

“Got a light?”

Junno pats his pockets and sure enough there’s a box of matches in his left side pocket. “I guess my character knows you smoke.” He holds them up as Koki slips an odd-looking cigarette between his pink lips and beckons him over. Junno crosses the room to him, lights the match and holds it forward cupped in his hands as Koki crosses his legs and leans in.

When Junno shakes the match out, Koki smiles, not really bothering to adjust his dress. “Useful for something then,” he says a bit archly. Junno grins back and perches on the vanity table, looking down at Koki thoughtfully.

Koki inhales and flinches. “Unfiltered,” he remarks, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Junno wonders if he were to tell Koki what his card says whether Koki would help a little by not hitting him if Junno made a pass at him. Of course he’s also beginning to wonder what the definition of ‘romancing’ is.

Junno pulls the card with its steadily increasing heat from his breast pocket.

 

  
**_The time is now quarter past five o’ clock. At least tell her you like her, you idiot!_ **

 

Junno drums his fingers on the vanity table nervously. “Hey, Koki?”

Koki seems occupied with an itch beneath his curls. He takes a pull of his cigarette and scratches behind his ear. “Damn, this thing itches like a bitch,” he swears. He balances the cigarette between his lips and Junno makes a startled noise when Koki pulls it off, clips, curls and all, leaving his regular hair beneath it.

Junno bursts out laughing. “Oh my gosh, it’s a wig!”

Koki shoots him a withering look. “Of course it’s a wig, you dolt.” He tosses the heavy mass of waves and locks on the vanity table beside Junno, fluffing up his own hair further.

Watching Koki’s fingers knit into his own hair, Junno gets instantly caught up in one of these moments where fascination just seems an understatement. Looking at Koki stimulates in him a sense for something wistful. Well, Junno’s never had a real, true best friend before, and since this thing with Koki really got started, he’s begun expecting certain unfamiliar feelings. Yet the pressure from the card mingled with what’s already in place in his mind is driving him a little bit up the wall.

“I’ll finish this and then we’ll break down the door, yeah?” Koki says casually, tucking his tin of cigarettes back in his garter, sending Junno a strange, little secret smile.

Junno swallows and smiles back faintly.

“What’s wrong? You’re looking at me funny,” Koki asks, tipping back to look up at Junno properly.

Junno’s highly aware of the fact that he’s words away from saying it. Words away from admitting that he doesn’t get nearly as happy at work if Koki’s not there, that he loves Koki’s jokes, loves when Koki laughs at what he says, that it’s OK to ask him to stay a little longer when the others leave, and that he probably falls all over himself to do as Koki says simply because the idea of Koki being pleased or satisfied with him fills him with such an unerring purpose.

“You look very pretty. Like this,” Junno says woodenly. “I mean, not just the dress, like, maybe how it looks on you. Just this whole thing…” He makes an awkward gesture meant to encompass ‘the whole thing’. “It just works, you know. Well, when you’re in your regular stuff I’m also—I mean I like…” He trails off on that note

Koki stares at him. “What the hell is this, suddenly?” he murmurs, looking uneasy.

Junno takes a deep breath. “I don’t even know…” he replies, laughing weakly.

Koki gives him a bit of a sympathetic look. “It’s this place, isn’t it? It’s got me all loopy too and what with being locked in here.” He stares off thoughtfully. “It’s OK, Taguchi; I know.”

Junno’s mouth goes dry. “You know?” That’s impressive because Junno isn’t even sure he _knows_ any of it himself. He’s just here, really, trying to work out whether there’s an actual scientific concept to be attached to the idea that sometimes, yes, he just wants to gather up Koki and all his angry, sweet quirks and take him off somewhere.

“Yeah,” Koki says. “I think the same.”

The same as what? is all Junno can think.

Unmindful of the terrible damage it’d do to the cherry wood vanity table, Koki reaches out and stubs his cigarette on the edge of it. He steps right up to Junno, looking at him a bit searchingly for such a short moment. Seeing whatever it was that pleased him, he claps Junno on the shoulder and passes him. Junno’s eyes follow and Koki smells like perfumed powders and roses and that’s so seriously weird.

Junno pulls out his card again as Koki goes for the door.

 

  
**_The time is half an hour past five o’ clock. Way to be smooth, you hopeless nutcase_ **

 

Junno isn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.

Koki’s doing something odd with his skirts, bunching them up in his fists and he’s looking at the door gaugingly. After one quick look between the floor at his boot tips and the door, he does a swift spin kick and his boot strikes the lock and tumbler, blowing the hinges back from the force. The doors fly open and Koki straightens; he sends Junno a smug look almost like a ‘Did you see that?’ and Junno grins, following him when he walks out.

The inside of the house is littered with old paintings of people that look vaguely like Koki only of different genders and ages. They’re standing on a veranda with a sweep of stairs going down both sides of the hall. The white banisters and wood floors are pristine and polished and gleam under the light from the low hanging chandelier in the center of the foyer.

“So this is my house…” Koki mumbles, stepping up to one of the portraits and grimacing at an aged woman glaring down at them from the same eyes. “It’s like copy, paste and photoshop in here.”

“Your family’s house, probably,” Junno adds, leaning his back on the banister, still caught in that moment back in the bedroom. “Hey, Koki, when you said you thought the same—“

“Kame?!” Koki exclaims and Junno whirls around and follows Koki’s gaze. Sure enough, at the foot of the stairs is a figure in a brown tartan cloak, a deer-hunter cap and clutching what appears to be a pipe in one hand. Very Sherlock. He looks up at Koki’s call.

“Aha! I thought I heard voices,” Kame says, ascending the steps swiftly, cloak billowing behind him. He gets to their level and pauses at the topmost step, giving Koki a surprised once-over. He begins to say something and then decides against it, turning his gaze on Junno. “I’ve been looking for _you_ ,” he finally announces, pointing at him with his pipe.

“Me?” Junno exclaims, darting a glance at Koki, looking equally floored.

Kame nods fervently and from a satchel at his waist he pulls out a fountain pen and a leather notebook with cream-coloured, thin-looking paper. “I’ve been investigating the murder--“

“Murder?” both Junno and Koki chorus.

Kame bites on the end of his fountain pen, perusing the hurried scrawls of print in his notebook. “Mm yeah.” He pauses, seemingly coming to a realization as he whirls on Koki, who looks startled.

Kame’s expression becomes grave as he approaches. Silently, he places both hands on Koki’s shoulders, still clutching the notebook and pen. “I have something to tell you, Koki. It’s not easy to say but…your father has been murdered.”

Koki slowly raises his own hands and places them on Kame’s shoulders as well, expression equally as grave. “Kame, you know none of this is real, right?”

They look ridiculous and Kame pulls away, waving his hand as if these details annoy him. “Real or fake, an elderly gentleman known around town to be your patriarch is currently lying on the floor after having been struck over the back of the head with an unknown weapon,” he reports.

“How do you know all this?” Junno asks while Koki appears to be checking his dress for ink stains.

Kame looks impatient. “I’ve been collecting facts on my way here by asking the townsfolk. Initially it was supposed to be about you,” he says, nodding at Koki. “But then I show up here to deliver my findings only to find the house bereft and the man, who according to my card had hired me to investigate his daughter, is dead.”

Junno’s amazed at how much Kame’s accomplished in an hour and a half.

“Wait, wait, slow down,” Koki interjects. “Your _character_ \--“ He places especial emphasis on the word character as if worried Kame might have misconstrued something. “--was in town to investigate my character and you just went with that?”

Kame sighs a little, sticking the pipe stem in his mouth as he fumbles to open his book. Junno notes that there’s nothing in the pipe. “Never mind that. I have to arrest Taguchi.”

“What?!” Junno cries, stepping back. “I didn’t do anything!”

Kame shakes his head. “It all adds up here, Taguchi. Koki’s father had arranged to have her—him…um, engaged to the Colonel’s son after her coming out and according to the Boulanger’s wife down the road, you’ve had your sights set on the Tanner Orchard since coming from France. What better way to it than to marry the family’s young, wayward daughter!”

Koki shoots Junno a mockingly injured look. “If you wanted my family’s money, you could’ve said so already.”

Junno doesn’t know what to say. “I don’t…”

Kame frowns at Junno, mouth turned down with disappointment. “So with Koki’s father adamant about her—ah, _his_ …being expected to marry into the prestige of the Colonel and his family, Taguchi in a fit of rage must have come to the house and struck the old man!”

“But I didn’t,” is all Junno can reply.

“Well, ok, no no, Kame, think about this,” Koki says with some placation. “Out of all of us that’d end up being the killer I highly doubt it’d be this guy.”

Kame looks unconvinced.

Koki comes forward, leaning back against the banister as well, hooking his tiny boots in the bars of it. “You would never kill anyone, would you?” he prompts in Junno’s direction.

Junno thinks about this seriously and all the factors that’d involve the act. He shakes his head. “Too high risk and definitely no returns.”

Koki makes that same odd smile at him, eyebrows quirked upward. “That’s a _terrible_ answer.”

“Sorry, it’s the first thing I thought of,” Junno says, noticing only then that Koki might be wearing lipstick.

Kame clears his throat. “Right. Well, my card instructed me to look at things through a timeline. According to the cook, Koki was locked in his room for the evening since he was caught sneaking into his father’s sherry cabinet and that was quarter to three.”

Koki smirks. “I’m such a firecracker.” He looks over at Junno again. “Explains the door being locked, though.”

Kame flips through his notebook. “And then at three-thirty, according to the butler, your father went to be alone in his study to prepare for an early evening visitor scheduled to arrive at four, which turns out to have been Ueda.”

Junno realises the meaning behind his card indicating the time. His alibi.

“Why, Uepomu?” asks Koki.

Kame shrugs. “There’s a note in the victim’s diary that he was to meet Ueda at four and I only just found out that his alibi is that he missed the meeting because he’s been playing poker with the shed men out back. The only one without an alibi so far is Taguchi and aside from his motive being crystal clear, there is one more detail I have not mentioned…”

“What?” Koki sighs.

“The murder scene is strewn with begonias!” Kame declares. “And you were _seen_ , Taguchi, seen in Koki’s personal garden where he grows begonias for you.”

Koki snorts and Kame darts a reproachful look at him.

“But I didn’t kill anyone!” Junno says morosely.

“Ah well,” Koki replies. “We can’t tell anything until we’re all together. We should go get Ueda and figure out what his card says.”

Kame nods. “Yeah, sure, in a minute,” he says slowly, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Koki, your motive is your rebellion against your father’s wishes for you to marry Colonel’s son, whom you dislike, and I’m beginning to suspect you might have been complicit to this, which would explain why you two were together.”

Koki looks outraged and Junno speaks up. “We were only together, just hanging out in his room.”

Kame’s eyebrows go up.

Koki rolls his eyes. “He means he spotted me on my balcony and climbed up, end of story.”

Kame’s glare intensifies. “No, not end of story. Taguchi’s only interested in your family’s money; he’d have no reason to come up and see you unless he disobeyed his card’s instructions.” He turns on Junno. “So what did your card say, Taguchi?”

Junno should’ve known this would come up. He remembers the vivid ink scrawling out the words ‘Romance’ with deep conviction and he’s more than embarrassed about the insults it was throwing at him. Koki’s looking at him closely, frowning.

“Get yours out too, Koki,” Kame orders, flipping open a new page in his book.

“Lost mine,” Koki says quickly.

Both Junno and Kame look at him. Junno just saw him with it; he wonders what would make Koki lie like that and sort of wishes he’d done the same. He pulls out his card unhappily and is just about to hand it to Kame when Koki grabs it and stuffs it in his bodice.

“What the hell, Koki?” Kame exclaims, making a grab for it.

Koki bats him away and puts his hands on his hips. “Never mind all this. We’re going to find Ueda and Nakamaru first and then sort this out!”

Kame’s lips go into a thin line and Koki frowns fiercely back.

“You guys…” Junno says uneasily.

“Fine!” Kame grounds out between clenched teeth. “We’ll look for Ueda and get this settled, but I’m warning you; if I find out you were the killer all along…”

 


	2. Shall We Play A Game?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nakamaru’s Cartier wristwatch search party goes awry. All of KAT-TUN, now locked in a storage room, agrees to play a suspicious-looking game with magical and embarrassing results.

 

It’s much darker outside once they get there but the air is still very humid. Kame leads the way down the front steps where the lamps are burning under the deep stone blue darkening sky. Koki shuffles to keep up, clearly weighed down by a large bustle of skirts and his odd little boots.

Junno slows down so he can keep in step. “Just so you know, Koki,” he mutters low so Kame won’t hear. “I’d never pursue you for money.”

Koki looks up at him, black eyes shining with laughter. “Yeah, yeah, I know you’re after me for my body, man. Just keep it clean, ok? This is the nineteenth century.”

Junno laughs breathlessly, but he’s a little frustrated now. There he goes again. “That’s not why I’d come after you either; like not the only reason. I’d respect you,” he says quickly.

The space of time it takes for Koki to smile again is poignantly delayed. He blinks off toward the distant lamps of the shed along the path, offering no reply except that same bemused smile. He pulls out his fan as they walk and flutters it at his chest.

Junno, pleased with simply watching the faint humidity creating scintillating gleams of moisture on Koki’s nape, figures being in character must be a safe bet at this point. He wishes there were a more articulate way to voice all this; he wonders if his character had this much difficulty. He probably spoke French all the time. Junno wonders if he can speak French now.

There’s a lot of raucous noise coming from the shed, laughter and shouts and Junno, Koki and Kame follow bright lamp lights streaming out the large open door. They peer in when they reach the sawdust strewn dirt floor.

“What the?” Koki mutters.

It’s like watching the first prototype of a video game cut-scene. All the men inside look the pretty much same and they all seem programmed to do a set number of things. Some of them are cheering and raising their arms whilst others sit in a circle, holding cards around a makeshift table made out of a spool. From the distance Junno stands at, all he can spot is a few of them repeating reels of generic reactions whenever a round of shouts break out. There’s even one in the corner that looks as though he’s glitched himself into a nearly transparent table. How unfortunate.

Kame steps in and Junno and Koki follow and it’s only as they get closer that they spot him, Ueda, dressed in a stylish dark frock coat with a untidy-looking cravat. His short black hair is tousled and standing on end, looking utterly like a V-Kei rock star. Ueda’s perched on a stool in the middle of the melee. He smiles smugly as he lays down his cards and the cheers break out again as the other men around the table let out computerised anguished groans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kame demands.

Ueda looks up and his face is flushed. He raises a tankard in toast and downs it as the crowd of men stomp all simultaneously. It’s a bit eerie.

“Can you believe this? I’m drinking moonshine liquor and playing poker! And winning!” he calls, waving them over. “Come join. These guys are a riot!”

Another round of cheers breaks out at this as a couple of them bring three stools over and Kame looks startled and uncertain while Koki begins to look torn.

“Are you drunk?” Junno says, trying to avoid his boots being stepped on as he takes a seat.

Ueda shrugs, holding his tankard out for a refill and a burly man comes along, tipping a brown jug. “I can’t tell. Everything’s been weird since I got here. I’ve made a lot of money though—you look good, Koki.”

“So do you,” Koki chuckles, beaming and bright blushing as he presses his fan to his nose. Junno kicks abruptly at some stray sawdust on his boots.

“We have to solve the murder, Ueda!” Kame hisses, hugging his tartan cloak closer.

“Murder? So we’re in the game we were playing in the storage room?” Ueda asks, voice muted from taking quick, wincing sips from the tankard.

“Yes, the Tanner patriarch was murdered around the time you were supposed to meet him.”

“Can I have some of that?” says Koki, pointing at Ueda’s tankard filled with clear, bubbly liquid but Kame intercepts it, handing it away with an imperious gesture when Junno reaches for it. Koki looks crestfallen.

“ _Ueda_!” Kame says insistently.

“Yeah, fine, I’m coming; just let me win this last round,” he says distractedly, picking up the cards the dealer gives him.

“How much did you win so far?” Koki queries as he leans over Junno’s lap to get a look at Ueda’s cards.

Ueda smirks. “I went up against a pirate the last round and he handed me that bag right by my boot; it’s filled with gold coins. I’m rolling in it!”

“A pirate…” Kame echoes tonelessly.

Ueda takes another card, glancing at the completely stationary faces surrounding them. “And the funniest thing is,” he raises his cards and whispers from behind them, shaking with silent laughter. “I have no idea what I’m doing!”

Koki looks deeply envious, but Junno’s more preoccupied with the fact that Koki’s settled comfortably draped over his lap in order to see Ueda’s cards. Junno only briefly considers asking Koki if he wants to switch seats but instead remains silent, gripping the sides of his stool with Koki stretching over his legs, warm body with pointedly accentuated curves occasionally slipping a bit too high up his lap.

He swallows, wetting his lips and happens to glance at Kame who’s watching with a carefully tempered and questioning gaze. Junno’s face burns and he stares dutifully at the poor CPU man still glitched into the table.

 

 

“So your card told you to go gamble and then you did?” Koki asks, picking up his steps as they exit the shed, still rumbling with cheers and singing.

Ueda walks a bit ahead with his sack of gold open, shuffling handfuls of it over his fingers peaceably. “Well, I woke up on the doorstep of the house, yeah? It said I had a meeting with Mr. Tanner and the Colonel’s son, but that there was time to play poker and I ought to go ask the shed men for a game. It all happened so quickly; I honestly didn’t notice the time passed.”

Kame walks faster and overtakes Ueda, practically hopping backwards with his notebook open. “Colonel’s son?! Did it say what the meeting was about?”

Ueda smiles sheepishly at them. “Debt. I owed him a load of money, and today was my cut-off date before he’d have the bankers seize my property.”

“Owed whom? Mr. Tanner or Nakamaru? Why would they both be in the meeting?” Kame is writing furiously as he walks, fountain pen skating across the pages.

Ueda ties up the drawstring of his sack of gold, dropping it in the large pocket of his frock coat. “No no, I was supposed to meet Nakamaru first because he had the money to pay off to Mr. Tanner.”

“Wait so my last name is Tanner?” Koki exclaims suddenly, eyes wide; he looks at Junno. “What’s _your_ name then? Taguchi with two c’s?”

“That’s Italian, isn’t it?” Junno says, laughing. “Maybe Jun-claude and you’d be Koki-marie.”

Koki’s little nose wrinkles when he laughs, and he has to grasp Junno’s shoulder to stay upright.

“Why would he pay your debt for you?” Kame asks loudly over their noise.

Ueda shrugs as they ascend the stairs and push the doors open to the still empty house. “I hope I get to take my gold with me. Imagine my net worth in the real world.”

“Irish Nakamaru is the son of Colonel McMaru,” Junno continues and Koki’s laughter goes voiceless and he gasps, little fingers clinging to Junno’s arm.

“Stop! Stop,” he wheezes. “That…sounds _so_ funny with your accent; you have no idea.”

Accent?!

“Could you two pipe down for a bit; I need to think!” Kame walks over to the stairway and sits on the bottom, flipping through his notes. “So if you were expected to meet Nakamaru first in front of the house and didn’t turn up, Nakamaru would also be around the house aside from Junno and Koki, who have since refused to offer a feasible alibi.”

Ueda is inspecting one of the Koki-paintings, but he turns absently on those words, fixing a deeply admonishing gaze on Junno and Koki. “The shed men were talking about Taguchi sneaking into Koki’s room every night. Koki, did you tell Taguchi to murder your father so you could finally be allowed to marry him?”

Koki splutters out a very catty sound and Junno utters a vehement, mangled noise. He’s not sure what word he’d meant to say.

Kame’s looking at them with some inspiration. “Of course! They’re actually in love! Taguchi’s been romancing Koki!”

“Eh…” Junno says haplessly because technically he didn’t. He does wish Kame would use different names. He can’t even bear to look at Koki now.

“You could’ve just run off together,” Ueda mutters, striding toward the study door on the right and looking in. “That would’ve been more romantic…there’s flowers all over the place in here, what the? Oh gosh, is that the body? Ew.”

Kame gets to his feet, highly motivated. “It’s like I said before! Koki would’ve wanted to get out from under his father’s control and what better way than to have her French lover take Mr. Tanner out of the picture; he gets his inheritance and the title of Duchess, and Taguchi is no longer bankrupt. Then as a last ‘fuck you’ to him, she scatters begonias—the symbol of their _love_ \-- all over his corpse.”

“Pronouns, Kame. I’m a _he_ ,” Koki snaps.

“No, you’re a murderer!” Kame says triumphantly and he looks so happy. Well, he did work quite hard for all this; Junno can see. “Taguchi, did you or did you not wake up in the begonia garden?”

“I…I did.”

“Aha! And since we arrived post-murder, you would have been in the last process of it.” Kame makes a sweeping gesture, cloak flooding the air around him. “And did you not pick the begonias and bring them to Koki?”

“Yes, but…” He considers everything that’s happened up until now and looks quickly at Koki worriedly. Koki looks quite shifty. Oh no.

“We didn’t kill him,” Koki says stolidly, folding his arms.

First Koki lying about his card, and now all this. Junno remembers Koki putting the begonias in an empty vase in the room where the begonias there before would probably have been. Perhaps Junno did kill him before opening his eyes to the garden, but then why was he expected to romance Koki immediately afterward? Was it a personality thing?

“We should find Nakamaru,” Ueda says calmly. “He doesn’t adapt to things like this quickly and it’s been over three hours now.”

Kame sighs. “Fine, fine, we’ll split up and look for him. If we want to get out of this anytime soon, it’s best we’re together when we solve this murder.”

 

 

When Kame says split up, he means for each of them to search the estate individually. He directs Junno to search the upstairs and Koki to the kitchens and dining room. Junno desperately needs to speak with Koki about all this, though, before it all blows up. The way he sees it, Koki must be having the same issue as him; wavering between his character and himself, self-preservation inciting him to keep the murder secret.

Junno takes a few steps upward, waiting for Kame to go back out in the yard before he doubles back and pursues Koki going down the front hall to the dining room.

He finds Koki when he hears the rustle of his skirts and follows until he sees him striding down the back hallway. Under the lamp brackets, the orange light makes everything on him glimmer and the edges of Junno’s vision blur as if in a dream.

“If you want me to keep it a secret, I will,” he announces and Koki whirls around, startled.

“Keep it a secret?” he asks, looking around warily.

Junno walks up to him. “You know why.”

Koki’s eyes shift away and his hands fiddle at his skirts anxiously. “I don’t…really…”

“I thought,” Junno murmurs, looking at his hands. “I thought this would be a good time to be honest with myself, or at least I think I am. I can’t work out what you mean when you seem like you’d be OK with me, OK with something between us.”

Koki squints at him. “Us?”

Junno curls his fingers in his palms. Usually he’d polish something like this with some generalized metaphor, make it light and earnest. It’s just that they’ve been scraping the surface on it all night and he’s never been this frustrated over something that should be so easy. “Why do you think I have to say all this?” he finally asks, looking at a space above his left ear.

Koki cocks his head curiously. “A-are you him?”

“Eh?” says Junno, completely floored.

Koki takes a step toward him slowly. “Are you Jun-Claude right now? Is that why you’re…”

Junno drops his face in his palms, utterly lost. “Koki, I’m not French right now and I think I’m confessing to you.”

Koki draws back, eyes widening. “Why would you be doing that now?” he asks in sudden high tones.

Junno casts about helplessly, fists bunched at his sides. “Because if we’re going to keep a secret like murder from everyone-- even if it’s just a game—I’d still want you to know why I’d protect you no matter what.”

Koki goes through a series of indecisive expressions and colours, his mouth working and nearly making words but dropping off on a breath. Finally his mouth sets and he reaches out, grasping Junno’s arm firmly. “In here, now!” he snaps, yanking Junno into what turns out to be the dining room.

He watches Koki expectantly, bracing himself for Koki’s weak smile and placating rejection, waiting for everything to change. Koki steps away from him, leaning on the large stretch of a dining table. He does an odd thing and pulls at the collar of his bodice, slipping a hand in there and feeling around. Before Junno can think what to say, Koki unearths their two cards.

“First of all, we’re _not_ the murderers,” he says, holding out Junno’s card. “Secondly, I figured you’d wait ‘til we’re not _playing_ a pair of Harlequin lovers before you started dropping all those confusing hints from square one.”

Junno feels a little wretched. “I don’t understand,” he states morosely.

Koki huffs a little breath. “I’m guessing the only task on your card tonight was to bring me flowers and that’s just lovely for you, but you know what _my_ card was telling me?”

Junno shakes his head.

Koki’s very flushed and he looks like he’s a little bit in pain. He moves away, skirts twisting around him as he pushes a chair aside to lift himself and perch on the table.

“Well,” Koki sighs and his accent seems to deepen. “Koki-Marie, firecracker that she is, is still a virgin and the reason why both she and Jun-Claude would’ve been too busy to commit any murder was because tonight, I—well, _she_ …” Koki leans back and squints up at the ceiling, looking very embarrassed. “…she was going to ask or, I dunno, _allow_ him to…”

Junno blinks at him, connecting the dots. Just a lot of dots. Coming together. He has no words.

Koki gets a bit of an unhappy look, staring now at the tips of his boots. “It was very mean of you to try this confession thing here. After all this time, you wait until tonight to figure it out,” he says bitterly.

A silence settles between them, charged and buzzing with all the implications.

“It was pure torture, what with my card saying terrible things like ‘Ask him to ravish you!” Koki takes a deep breath and finally chances a look at Junno, who hasn’t been able to stop staring since. “Well?” he says, trying to inject annoyance in his tone but failing in the upturn of his eyes and the unsettled, self-conscious line of his mouth. “Thoughts?”

Junno _is_ thinking. He considers how Koki had looked at him when he’d come over the trellis, how he’d readily shut him down earlier upstairs, probably thinking he was just playing a part. “I wouldn’t have minded,” he says quietly. “If you’d asked me to.”

Koki smiles bemusedly again, eyebrows quirked upward, a short laugh slipping out. “That’s a _terrible_ answer.”

Junno grins finally, feeling almost blessedly relieved. Koki kicks a shoe up from his perch, toeing up against the low hanging coattails of Junno’s coat, moving it aside. Junno catches at the heel of it and looks at him questioningly.

“And If I asked you now?” Koki mutters, looking perfectly wicked.

Junno feels his middle jump up with butterflies. Koki knits his fingers into handfuls of his gown fabric, pulling the bustle upward and back as he rests the other shapely leg on the back of a chair. Junno shivers. “Are…you asking?” he whispers, but he’s already moving toward him, palm following up the underside of his knee.

Koki looks at him under heavily made-up lashes and Junno’s close enough to count them; he doesn’t break eye contact when Junno slips hands under the skirts, fingers tugging at the tops of stockings on his thighs, feathering warm naked skin. The contact is provoking and Junno’s heart hammers feral beats. “I’m not going to say ‘ravish,’ but you get the picture,” Koki mutters, lips turning up in an indiscernible grin.

Junno laughs, watching and feeling Koki’s skin react the closer he gets. He sidles in between Koki’s legs, drinks in the scent and feel of Koki’s skin, what little is available in frills and lace, curve of his throat he’d been eyeing nearly all day. Koki unbuttons Junno’s coat and smoothes hands up underneath, touching like exploration. Junno leans in and the edge of his nose runs up Koki’s cheek, all heat when he breathes in Koki hitched sigh.

Koki reaches up, having to stretch and rock hips against Junno’s when he threads fingers into his hair and yanks him down, closing his lips over Junno’s. Junno licks into Koki’s mouth, just wants to finally get a taste, flicking over his teeth, voiceless moan when he finds Koki’s tongue.

Junno gets painfully excited, and quite likes how Koki leans back, twisting and pulling on Junno’s hair to make him tilt at ideal angles. His blood heats with every tug and pull and he reaches deep under Koki’s skirts, lifting them until Koki’s lace is bare against the lacquered table, resting on the squeeze and clench of his palms. Startled, Koki practically writhes upward and presses his hand on the base of Junno’s throat, biting his lip suddenly a little vicious and desperate, fingernails scraping a very mortal spot

Junno’s a little alarmed at how explosive this got so quickly. His mind is reeling with the burn of Koki’s fingers on the front of his trousers; sneaky fingers. He isn’t aware that he’d raised a knee on the table until Koki pulls away, swallowing and catching his breath, fingers still tied in his hair. Koki’s gaze is dazed; lips that were already so full and evocative are pink and swollen. Junno leans forward again, taking Koki’s bottom lip in his mouth, sucking a little greedily.

Koki makes a soft, happy sound when he slips his fingers down Junno’s trousers and Junno involuntarily shudders. Junno scrunches his eyes shut, musing at his own reaction when only the heel of Koki’s hand grooves over his hip bone. He feels his erection forming even before Koki’s hand gets there and he tugs him closer and Koki mouths over his throat. “Mm,” Koki says thoughtfully, flickering a quick, hot look at him before he smoothes his fingertips over the top part of Junno’s dick, pressed thick against the front of his trousers.

Junno arches and shivers. The muscle of Koki’s thighs flex under his hands and they both groan at different recesses of contact. Junno drags him to the very edge of the table and feels softness under the silk separation of underclothes. Koki leans back to look at him under hooded eyes just when Junno’s thumb brushes something hard and just a little pressure has Koki climbing him, fist curling around Junno and legs wrapped snugly.

“Ah, I really want…” Junno gasps over Koki’s lips, pulling into the hipline of Koki’s underclothes, closing his own palm over him.

“Mm?” Koki breathes, dropping quick kisses, bracing an arm over Junno’s shoulder and rolling his hips inward.

Junno leans his head back as Koki runs the meanest, most arousing little bites down his Adam’s apple before coming down on him again. Junno rocks into Koki’s fist while jacking Koki up and down until they’re both scrambling. Koki’s wet with pre-ejaculate and Junno wishes he could fuck him; already has an image of Koki’s fingers clinging to the table, ankles hooked around the back of him and moaning hitched breaths in his ear like this.

Koki mewls. “Faster—mm, fuck!” Junno’s head spins when Koki hisses into his mouth, messily kissing him, all tongue and dirty. Junno can’t get nearly enough skin because this is just on the cusp of perfect and he pulls the collar of Koki’s dress down. He listens to Koki’s harsh growls when the buttons snap out of place with little patters of sound. Junno squeezes his fist over Koki tighter before he closes his lips on the tan crème of Koki’s naked shoulder.

“Nakamaru!” Koki gasps from over Junno’s shoulder.

Junno straightens, quite horrified, but Koki’s white in the face and staring across the room and there, indeed, is Nakamaru, red-faced and trying, it seems, to dissolve into the wallpaper. He’s got up in the appropriate garments also a sack coat and a pair of high-waisted trousers but in a very deep purple and a lurid red rose in his front pocket.

“Nakamaru?” Junno says, still breathless.

“I was,” he murmurs, dark eyes wide. “I was just leaving…”

Koki adjusts his skirts and pulls his hand out of Junno’s trousers, looking more startled than mortified. “Were you watching us?”

Nakamaru is perhaps the only person Junno’s ever known who can look both stern and suicidal at once. “I have been _standing_ over there for all of twenty minutes; I was in here first!” he says in a choked, rage-filled whisper, looking at them with horrified and silent judgment.

Koki grimaces. “Well, why didn’t you say anything?”

Nakamaru looks so furious, he goes stark white. “Why didn’t you notice me first?!”

Koki glares and juts forward off the table, using Junno’s arm for balance. “You should’ve said something first!” he barks.

“I tried to sneak out before I saw anything, but—but then _he_ …and _you._ ” Nakamaru’s eyes widen as he looks off into the caged vision of an image still haunting him. “I have trauma; _this_ is post-trauma. I’m going to go into shock—“ He straightens from his plastered-to-the-wall position, patting his chest. “OK, all right; deep breaths-- that’s what they tell you, right?”

“Wow,” Junno replies. He’s positively enthralled. He has a liking for hysterics since he never quite gets there. Koki laughs and catches his eye and gives Junno a bit of a chagrined smile. He still looks very tantalizing and Junno thinks of biting those lips again.  
.  
Nakamaru makes a fierce sound that could be disapproval, but Junno can’t tell, he’s liking how put-out and charmingly annoyed Koki looks, pulling up the torn sleeve of his dress. Cute, yeah.

 

 

 

“Why were you hiding in the dining room?” Kame asks wearily.

“I was scared,” Nakamaru says shiftily.

They’ve gathered in the front hall again and Nakamaru has put a sizeable distance between Junno and Koki, taking a comfortable seat next to Ueda on the stairs.

“He’s just embarrassed because it was _hot,_ ” Koki mutters under his breath to Junno, quite unmoved.

Junno wishes he knew more words for how excellent Koki is.

“So did you do it?” Ueda says, in an ironic sharp tone, leaning his head back on the banister. “Spill it, Nakamaru.”

Nakamaru makes a face. “Yeah, I did it,” he admits sulkily.

Kame makes an offended noise. “You were supposed to wait; I would’ve figured it out. I’m a _damn_ good detective.”

Junno nods agreeably. Kame’s often good at things.

“I wanted to tell you guys right away but I didn’t know who was in the house and everything happened so fast,” Nakamaru explains, nodding at the study. “I opened my eyes and I was standing over that man with a bloody paper weight in my hand!”

“Paper weight,” Kame murmurs, eyes narrowed, writing that down quickly like he’s going to be doing paperwork on this later.

“That character card, it was burning my pocket and it told me ‘you’ve just killed your prospective fiancée’s father because he was determined to take your best friend’s holdings and I don’t know, I-I panicked.”

“That’d make me panic too,” Ueda says sympathetically.

“So I was given a choice on my card. One was to pin the blame on my best friend and the other on my rival…”

Koki squints. “The begonias?”

Nakamaru nods. “I picked the rival who I suppose turned out to be Taguchi and the option was to scatter begonias all over the place. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but yeah, I pinned the murder on Taguchi.”

“Nakamaru~” Junno says, a little hurt and Nakamaru looks over at him, gaze unreadable.

Kame looks pleased, writing all this down and Ueda hovers a hand over Nakamaru’s shoulder as if considering the option of a backrub but not quite there yet. His hand drops and Koki sighs exasperatedly in Nakamaru’s direction.

“ _I’m not sorry_ ,” Nakamaru mouths at them, eyes wide, looking all of seven years old.

Junno smiles. Nakamaru will forgive him; he’s already talking to him directly again.

“So Mr. Tanner was still after Ueda’s land even though you paid him the money, huh?” Kame finally asks.

“Yeah, looks like,” Nakamaru replies, looking exhausted. “This was a terrible idea, this game.”

“I had fun,” Kame says peaceably, smiling at all of them fondly. “We should play every time we work together.”

“Mm, I agree,” Koki mutters and Junno looks at him, grinning and Koki stares deliberately across the room, the shell of his ears going fire truck red. Oh, so _now_ he’s embarrassed. Crazy.

Nakamaru sits up, looking very austere. “Well, I’m glad all of you had such a rollicking time over a murder,” he says acidly. He turns on Ueda. “I did it for you, you know.”

Ueda gives him a serene smile, edge of mocking. “No one’s ever murdered for me before, Nakamaru, but I just don’t feel that way about you.”

Nakamaru shuts his eyes as if the room itself had struck his last nerve. Junno tries not to laugh, but it’s unpleasantly difficult.

“Still a nice gesture, though,” Ueda adds. “Tell you what, since I’m terribly rich now, I’ll buy you a _new_ watch.”

Nakamaru doesn’t look at Ueda, but the corners of his mouth go up in a bit of a grudging smile. Ueda looks smug.

“I figured we’d have—I dunno—gone back by now,” Kame says, looking around.

They all exchange glances and Junno, a thought visiting him, pulls out his card. It’s blank. “What if we…” he says slowly. “What if we tore the card? What would happen?”

Kame pulls out his card. “Right,” he says cynically, ripping it in half. “If that were true, we could’ve done that ages ago and the game wouldn’t have mean—“ It’s like he glitches out of the room, sudden, one moment there and the next, not.

“Kame!” they all yell without thinking.

“Oh my god…do you think he went back? Or is he…” Koki whispers, looking frightened.

Junno looks down at his card.

 ** _Would you chill?_** it says. **_One of your players has exited the game. Game Master must tear his card to reset and return._**

He can’t even find it in himself to be annoyed with its progressively nasty tone because he was right. He _is_ the Game Master. Junno is all smiles as he locks eyes with Koki, looking at him questioningly. “I got this,” he says, and gives it a swift and finalising tear.

 

 

 

 

 

**_Omake_ **

 

While the others take stock of the storage room again and the still locked door, Junno packs up the game, pamphlet and envelopes with cards mysteriously intact. When he flips through the little booklet, he notices there are different stories with different settings. One of them looks a little steampunk-like, which is very cool. Another time with that one, definitely.

Turns out that Ueda’s gold winnings have an exchange rate between virtual, historical world and the real, very present one, which happens to leave him with a mysterious one hundred dollar bill. He becomes excusably aggrieved over it to which Nakamaru pats his arm and murmurs, “Don’t you back out on your promises now. I’m a murderer, you know?”

Junno has a vague hunch they’ll be hearing a lot of _that_ from now on.

It’s Kame who checks his phone and reports that it’s nearly past midnight and while still in a veritably good mood, informs them it’s vital that they get some sleep for tomorrow’s concert meeting.

It takes a bit of time but they arrange more costumes and curtain cloth on the floor until they’ve made a sizeable circle of a makeshift bed. Junno isn’t at all apologetic about taking the space beside Koki. He watches him curl up and lean his head on the thing he previously stuffed before Kame switches off the lights.

Junno stretches out, setting the game box outside the circle and pulling what feels like a velvet curtain over himself. He’s in that euphoric space as he shuts his eyes, thinking of Koki; just everything Koki.

Of course, once after what seems an hour passes and the only sound in the room is the loud pattering rainstorm outside and the deep breathing of their band mates, it’s Koki who moves in the dark, shifting under his curtain/blanket. Junno groggily opens his eyes, but still can’t see a thing, only feels Koki’s leg move over his and small hands slip under his t-shirt.

He opens his mouth to query, but the warmth of Koki’s whole body engulfs him as he stretches on top of Junno. “Shh,” Koki says in his ear, almost muted in its undertone. Junno nods but only in time for Koki to press his lips to his, and just that wet contact is enough to kick-start Junno’s previous arousal in. He imprisons Koki by his nape.

“What if they hear us?” Junno whispers right in his ear, barely breathing so it’s practically soundless under the shift of the others settling in for the night.

“Should I gag you?” Koki hisses, doing a very wicked thing and skirting his hand further up Junno’s shirt, pressing his nipple with a thumb.

Junno doesn’t trust himself to speak any further and he wonders a little how Koki would take the ‘Yes’ he wants to whimper when Koki leans down to nip at his jaw, tongue darting out to lap downward over his throat.

Junno reaches in the dark, cuffs of his sleeves catching on the rough patches of Koki’s jeans as he unbuttons them quickly and Koki’s breath hitches against Junno’s pulse. Somehow the darkness electrifies each touch like finding and Junno has to bite his lips to keep from breathing too loudly when Koki’s searching hands get to the buttons of his trousers.

Without the encumbrance of Koki’s frills and skirts and just the gritty, delicious slide of thin cloth, Junno’s relieved to only have to rock upwards and gain hot, hard friction immediately. Koki’s perfectly unpredictable where Junno can’t see him, and hot, definitely hot with his lithe, muscular frame curling into him and forming a groove on his hip where the dig of his cock presses.

Junno uses fingernails, digging to his own satisfaction into Koki’s shoulder blades and spine until Koki utters a faint, “Junno~” on the feather of a voiceless gasp. He scoots downward, and Junno feels Koki’s jeans coming off his hips as he kicks them off and almost moans aloud when Koki settles down on him again, now silk skin of lovely round thighs settling over his hips and the rut of his erection against the buttons of his trousers.

“I can’t wait to fuck you,” he mouths, lips against Koki’s collarbone and he’s not even breathing it so there’s no telling if Koki hears him.

He might as well have since Koki proceeds to push at his clothes, particularly his trousers, and Junno starts in surprise when Koki presses a little tube in his hand along with an unmistakably identifiable square packet.

“Want you now,” Koki breathes, nipping at his earlobe. “Please.”

Junno figures he’ll address Koki carrying things like this around with him another time when Junno isn’t utterly punch-drunk on everything involving Koki’s body. It doesn’t feel like that’ll be ever as the simple feel of the backs of Koki’s thighs sends Junno into butterfly-wings and biting desire.

They manage a sideways position as Junno rolls over him, pulling the curtain over them. It’s perfect having him scrambling helplessly in darkness, lips searching his when Junno’s coated fingers brush up his crevice. It’s like he feels each word the way it is when someone draws deep impressions of writing using a finger to his spine; Koki’s mouth pleading the word, “ _Quickly_ ,” into his.

He can’t have him quickly enough and he practically bites that hard, threadbare part of Koki’s shoulder when he rolls the condom on, slicking himself sensitive before shifting close enough to lift himself inward, spreading Koki’s legs so he can reach under and up to caress him at the same pace.

It’s only once he thrusts the first time that Junno has to pause, knowing that this—so tight—this and the reckless way Koki pushes back, he won’t be able to keep as quiet. And Koki’s hips-- as he rolls back and takes him in all the way in and rolls out slick, easing-tight swallow-- seem like a paradise torture, flexing and so, so mean. Junno growls, already biting back a groan.

They perfect a rhythm and they’re both shaking, trying to go slow because every single sound they make feels like the end. The secrecy of it takes them to a profound edge and Junno is already close. His breathing is just shudders and Koki tips his head back, opening his mouth for Junno and Junno thinks he’ll always love kissing him, for the dart of his tongue and how loose his lips are in sucking.

He has to press his fingers to Koki’s mouth when he feels him close because his breaths get hotter, heavier until little faint mewls slip out and he’s a writhing and rocking mess under Junno. Koki’s climax tightens him and that’s practically the end of Junno as he places a palm on the bare floor, rocking in and holding his breath so he doesn’t make a sound. He presses his face to the back of Koki’s neck, briefly bathed in his delicious scent before he stops breathing altogether. It carries his senses to a mindless place of bliss, his pulse thundering in his ears and the push of himself, thrumming against something deep in Koki.

He comes like that, shaking and releasing a wash of air at last over Koki’s moist skin, soon fully coated in sweat and trembling from aftershocks. Koki sighs, letting out his sigh in safe rationed exhales, still trying to be quiet.

In that silent afterglow, it’s like they managed something so excellent in its secrecy and Koki twists around while Junno pulls out to tie off the condom, considering the inconvenience of having to wake up a bit earlier to tidy up before the lights go on or the daylight comes creeping in. Koki hands him tissue paper that feels a bit like gift-bag décor and Junno's laughter is still voiceless.

Koki helps him tug his trousers up so he doesn’t have to get up--long legs and everything-- while Koki’s able to kick his legs up and shimmy his own on, which is _very_ impressive if Junno is feeling that right. Lastly, before Koki can think to scramble back to his blankets, Junno grabs him and holds him in place, knowing that Koki knows a struggle would only wake the others.

He wins out of Koki’s overall exhaustion and the fact that he can hold anything for long enough until it gives in.

When they finally settle, the Spring rain hums on and seems all the heavier and Junno drifts off, calmed by everything being in its right place.

In the dark he hears—though he can’t be sure—the sound of a Nakamaru fretting in his sleep, whimpering a little and Junno is _so_ very sorry.

He thinks maybe he’ll chip in to buy Nakamaru his new wristwatch.


End file.
